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And then war broke out! On the first day my brother left for Verdun<ref name="n4" /> as a major, and since then has never ceased to be in the most terrible danger in the firing line<ref name="n5" />. My dearest friends are all at the front. It gives me some peace of mind at least to know that you can’t “go”. As for myself I’ve still not passed my exemption review. I hope that your health does not suffer too cruelly from the repercussions of these anxieties, and also that your friends haven’t been too much put to the test. Alas, I already have friends<ref name="n6" />, even family members<ref name="n7" /> who have been killed. | And then war broke out! On the first day my brother left for Verdun<ref name="n4" /> as a major, and since then has never ceased to be in the most terrible danger in the firing line<ref name="n5" />. My dearest friends are all at the front. It gives me some peace of mind at least to know that you can’t “go”. As for myself I’ve still not passed my exemption review. I hope that your health does not suffer too cruelly from the repercussions of these anxieties, and also that your friends haven’t been too much put to the test. Alas, I already have friends<ref name="n6" />, even family members<ref name="n7" /> who have been killed. | ||
I don’t know if you share my opinion, but I find the newspapers are greatly inferior to the great matters that they talk about. I think they take a deplorable tone that risks diminishing the scope for Victory, a Victory which, alas, is so far off. May it come in 1915, and without our dearest friends being taken from us. Dear friend, may 1915 also bring a strengthening of your health and inspiration for great works | |||
De tout mon cœur, votre | De tout mon cœur, votre |
Revision as of 11:09, 4 January 2021
Marcel Proust to Louis de Robert 3 January [1915]
3 January[1]
102 boulevard Haussmann
Dear friend
In this terrible anguish of war and the anguish that was my “Pre-War”[2] (because the whole of last summer was for me the cruellest of my life[3]), I have never stopped thinking about you - as a great friend of the mind - in the midst of misfortunes when I was no longer in possession of my mind
And then war broke out! On the first day my brother left for Verdun[4] as a major, and since then has never ceased to be in the most terrible danger in the firing line[5]. My dearest friends are all at the front. It gives me some peace of mind at least to know that you can’t “go”. As for myself I’ve still not passed my exemption review. I hope that your health does not suffer too cruelly from the repercussions of these anxieties, and also that your friends haven’t been too much put to the test. Alas, I already have friends[6], even family members[7] who have been killed.
I don’t know if you share my opinion, but I find the newspapers are greatly inferior to the great matters that they talk about. I think they take a deplorable tone that risks diminishing the scope for Victory, a Victory which, alas, is so far off. May it come in 1915, and without our dearest friends being taken from us. Dear friend, may 1915 also bring a strengthening of your health and inspiration for great works
De tout mon cœur, votre
Marcel Proust